Under the Pear Tree
by Rosie-Love98
Summary: It was years after the death of Jay Gatsby. A troubled Nick is sent by his family to go on vacation to clear his head with his young cousin, Bernice (of "Bernice Bobs Her Hair"). Upon getting lost, the two encounter Janie Mae Crawford (from "Their Eyes Were Watching God"). Ensuing an usual friendship and romance.
1. So We Beat On

So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past. A revelation I had been blessed and plagued with ever since the horrid end of Jay Gatsby. His demise brought upon by his pure glorification of nostalgia and the selfish, careless bunch that condemned him. A conclusion to the only man I had exempt from criticism. Unlike the Buchanans or the other high-class city folk. By them, I was driven. Driven to escape their corruption by returning to my home, the Midwest. To the Dukes of Buccleuch, I had returned.

For the next six years I had seen no girl, no friends, nor any relatives besides my father. All I had done was work at the family's hardware business. Sitting in a simple office next to my father's. Doing paper work from dawn until dusk with my mouth shut with my mind in chaos. As much as my aunts and uncles were proud of my hard work, my father on the other hand was deeply concerned.

Through my last book, he was able to understand my reasoning to return. Yet, because of this, our discussions had been different. Reserved and snobbish as they still were, the latest colloquies would be met with questions. Inquiries I would be troubled in answering.

"Nick,", my father once started, "if you knew all of these affairs were occurring, why did you not intervene?"

I was about to reply when I had begun to think about it. It did not concern me, I pandered, I was not sneaking about like Tom or Daisy. What would even be the point of telling anyone? One would take it as gossip. Another would already know of it, anyway.

This I had thought but would fail to speak on. Leaving my father to sigh and abandon me to my insufferable panders.

By the third year of my return, father gradually saw what damage the city had on my mentality. I had stopped going to family gatherings. I would just sit in my room all day. Lying in bed either wondering or reading. At this, father would suggest a vacation with the whole family. "It would be a splendid idea, Nick.", he would often say, " The fresh air would work wonders for you."

I would smile in gratitude at his thoughtful suggestion. And then return to my daily duties of solitude.

By the fifth year, our conversations would be more robust. Admittedly, this is of my own doing. There were be times when my father would discuss certain matters with me and then I would just have these sudden outburst. They would not even be about the city or the Buchanans, or Gatsby. Father grew more worried. My two aunts and two uncles had just gotten started.

"Something needs to be done!", cried my aunt Clovia, as uncle Henry would point out, "This boy will be the next owner of our business!" Then my uncle Charles would ask, "In God's name, is the heir to our empire to become another madman in an asylum?"

So many things said in their discussions. So, a bevy of suggestions were created and aborted as to what was to be done.

Finally, after about two weeks of debating, everyone agreed that I needed to go away for a while. I was reluctant but I had cooperated willingly. Besides, I could choose my destination, the time span and the company. With little enthusiasm, I had chosen a resort Wisconsin where I could clear my mind for about four months. All with the company of a young, trustworthy cousin by the name of "Bernice".


	2. The Carraway Tree

In my last book, I had neglected to tell of my Nordic family relations. I had spoken of my great-uncle and how he had obtained his business. Yet, I did not go into much depth on the other. My great-uncle was named "Nicholas Carraway". His brother, Peter had married a Finnish immigrant called, "Hellevi Somer". I do not know much about this strange grandmother for she had died a year prior to my birth. All that I am aware of was that she had short black hair, piercing blue eyes and an amiable spirit. She had worked as a teacher when marrying the younger Carraway. From this union, Hellevi bore him seven children.

Clovia was the eldest. Cheerful as her mother, she inherited her father's brown eyes and brown hair. These traits had managed to attract the attention of Mr. Henry Irving. In no time the two were married when she was 20 and he was 31. A year later, they had their daughter, Priscilla. Bearing her father's strawberry blonde hair and mother's brown eyes, she would flaunt her looks to any bachelor. One of those fools was none other than Benjamin Faye. With much coy courting along with failed pleadings, 22-year-old Mr. Faye had managed to get 18-year-old Priscilla to be his wife. A winter, or two later, Daisy Faye came into the world. With her, one is aware of her later life. As for Clovia and Henry, they had moved back to the Midwest to be close to the mediate relatives.

Franklin was the second child of the first Carraways. Not to mention, the first-born son. With Clovia married off to Irving's Louisville estate, her brother was left as the Peter's sole heir. By this prophecy, Franklin was given the best education in New Haven. Once graduating in 1890, the 23-year-old had felt the need to find a wife. Enter Miss. Emma Jane Coolidge. Fair of face, she had worn her light-brown hair in a bun with her eyes being of a hazel color. Despite being a beautiful woman, Franklin's choice in her was shocking. Emma was a low-class woman of Polish ancestry. And because her father had been said to have fled to either Chicago or Boston, young Emma was born to a single mother. Despite such facts in her biography, Franklin, out of all girls, wedded her when she was 21. When he was 25 and she, 23, a son was born. Even as a minute old infant, relatives had immediately foreshadowed the boy's appearance. Knowing that he would resemble his strange great-uncle. A man who had died during Franklin's college years. In consequence, the infant was given a similar name to "Nicholas"; "Nick".

After Franklin, came the brunette Gretchen. In her development, she was a proper, polite young lady. More mature than her older sister. This must have been the very reason why the equally old-fashioned, platinum-blonde Richard Harvey. They were 19 and 26 when married. And 24 and 31 when golden-haired Marjorie came into the world. Just nine years after my entrance.

With Gretchen, came her twin sister, Greta. While Gretchen's hair was brown as mud, Greta's was the color of sand. As Gretchen had brown eyes, Greta had piercing blue. And while Gretchen was obedient, Greta was rebellious. Especially where romance was involved. When 24 years old, Greta had wandered off to the woods. There, she had stumbled upon a humble, shed-like house. Taking notice of the owner; a lonely fellow her age. His father was French as his mother was of the Ho-Chunk tribe. After much hesitance, the man, William "Silent-Cloud" Bouvier, was fond of young Greta. Too fond, in my family's eyes. The pair married four months later with Bernice showing up not even a year after the wedding. From such things, Peter had disinherited his unlawful daughter to Hillevi's tears. Thanks to this, and Silent-Cloud's sudden illness, the small family had struggles immensely. I could not even blame Hillevi and Gretchen for going behind the patriarch's back to help them. Still, poor Silent-Cloud had succumbed to the disease at only 26. Leaving behind a grieving wife and a beloved toddler. Poor Greta still has not recovered from the tragic loss. She could not even look at her own child for her youthful face was his too. Silent-Cloud had also given Bernice his long, dark hair, his brown eyes, and shy deposition. The only thing Greta bestowed on her was her pale skin. There was also her now conservative values and wealth Peter had returned to her with forgiveness. The poverty-stricken child had grown into a wealthy heiress raised with the old-fashioned values of her aunt Gretchen.

Anyway, three more additions came to the Peter and Hillevi; John, Lydia and Charles. With them being close in age, the trio were mistaken as triplets in childhood. And in adulthood, they could not have been anymore polarizing. John had black hair, blue eyes and a heated temper with little to no respect for the lowlife. The brunette, brown-eyed, Lydia was practical, studious and of a reserved breed. As for Charles, his brown hair and eyes were accompanied by a sensitive, foppish demeanor. He would always find himself being the object of John's ill humor. Only to be saved by Lydia's defenses. All of them were single due to disinterest at best or unrequited love at worse.

These were all the people in my mediate clan. Including Bernice; a cousin who, compared to the others, I had always been close too. How close, I am yet to figure out. It is true I favor her over Daisy or Marjorie. But we had lived in different places; she was in Wisconsin since age three. I had been in Minnesota since birth. As a result, we would hardly see each other.

But now I had chosen her to join me on this vacation, I hoped to regain our long-lost friendship. Maybe, that would help my sanity. After sending a couple reluctant an obliging letter, packing suitcases along with giving or getting some goodbye kisses, the two of us had hopped on the train to Florida. Specifically, to venture to the Miami Biltmore Hotel.


End file.
